


In the Interest of Cooperation

by AnnieGrimmons101



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Awkward Conversations, Barebacking, Begging, Bigotry & Prejudice, Boys Kissing, Clone Sex, Clonecest, Clothed Sex, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Love Bites, M/M, Motor Lubricant as Lube, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Teasing, Wall Sex, excessive use of Mando'a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieGrimmons101/pseuds/AnnieGrimmons101
Summary: Lyað gets posted to guard the office of a senator with a damnable curiosity and not a single ounce of shame. But, she unwittingly pulls him into the orbit of the handsomest top in the senate, so maybe the day's posting wasn't all bad.
Relationships: Anndansari (OCC)/Fax (OCC), Anndansari (OCC)/Nammi (OCC), Lyað (OCC)/Anndansari (OCC), Original Clone Trooper Character(s)/Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	In the Interest of Cooperation

**Author's Note:**

> For help reading the mando'a (since it's copious) here's a link to The Dictionary We All Deserve:  
> http://mandoa.org

Lyað frowned deeply under his helmet. “I... don’t follow, ma’am.”

The senator looked at him like, well, like he was a meat droid. “You know definitions? Vocabulary? You know the definition of the word ‘sex’?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you don’t understand the question?”

A muted breath, and Lyað replied, “I wasn’t aware droids had sex, ma’am.”

Now she looked at him like he was defective. “Sex droids. Droids built specifically to have sex with. Pleasure droids?”

“I... I’m unfamiliar with such things, ma’am... I’d presume it’s against regulations. To... They’d be personal property, ma’am?”

“Yes...?” She must’ve thought he was unbelievably stupid and he was starting to wonder if she was right.

“... well, ma’am... Regs state we gotta have permission from the owner to step on private land. I’d assume it’s the same for private droids. But it’s against regs to, erm, fraternise, with civilians, ma’am. And I don’t know if a private... fraternising... droid... counts as... that. Ma’am. But if I know my CO, it’d be latrine duty for the doer and everyone who knew about it regardless if it was against regs. 

“‘Sides, ma’am. We’re not allowed out of barracks while off-duty, and we’re not allowed... distractions while on it. So unless the Republic’s putting... those... into the barracks... No, ma’am. I don’t think there’s any clone who’s done it with a droid, ma’am.”

“No civilian fraternisation? As in, you never have sex with anyone outside the army?”

Lyað shook his head a little. “No, ma’am. It’s a decommissionable offence.”

“But isn’t there rules against having sex with officers of different rank than you?”

He twitched backwards a bit in shock. He was surprised she knew that. “Yyes, ma’am. Same-rank only for enlisteds.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not enlisted. You’re clones.”

“Wwell, ma’am...” He’d been hoping she’d overlook that. “... you’re correct. Enlisteds have a different rank structure than clones, see, ma’am. We’re not ever the same rank as any of them.”

“So it’s a closed loophole. So you can’t sleep with anyone.” Her eyes were still narrowed, like she knew she was getting closer to getting something out of him he didn’t want to tell. But he didn’t think he was getting out of this room without telling her, well, everything. Senators were that kind of nosy.

“... we... can, ma’am... Clone-on-clone only permitted between ranks.” He stuttered, looking at anything but her face. “But the senior officers... keep themselves within the higher ranks, to keep with the spirit of the enlisteds’ regs about it.”

Even knowing his hope was in vain, he hoped that she’d tamp down her disgust the way she would if he’d been a fellow senator, but then, she didn’t need to be nice to him because she didn’t need clone votes to pass her bills. Still, he hoped she’d at least not believe him, or just tell him to guard from outside her office or go fetch her caf and muffins, or something, anything to not have to be here while she processed what she’d learned.

“So. You’re a virgin.” 

Huh? Yes, but, huh? How’d she reckoned that? Where the hell had this conversation fallen to? “Ma’am?”

“The way you talk about it. Like it’s foreign to you.” She folded her arms, cocking her head at him, like now he was a puzzle instead of a broken machine. “How is it you pair off? Do you just take turns with each clone? Or do you have a separate division to be _beneath?”_

He choked on his own existence. “ _Ma’am_.” He was no longer shy; he was mortified. No birther would ever ask another birther that kind of question. To demand to know intimate details of what happened inside the barracks... the existence of clone-on-clone was one thing. He wasn’t about to lay out every one of his brothers’ most private moments for this chakaar’s entertainment. He swallowed, and spoke. “That is an _inappropriate question_ , ma’am.”

Instead of showing any semblance of shame for her behaviour, she huffed and poked him in the breastplate. His back knocked against the wall trying to get away from her.

“I ask you a question and you answer, clone,” she snapped. “Which clone goes on the bottom? Lower rank? Do you pick each other at random or do you go down a list?”

Lyað fumed. “I will not answer that.” She was acting like— like clones just used each other like a ‘fresher. Each one taking his turn on a set schedule for efficiency’s sake. She didn’t think they were capable even of lust, much less love. She thought they were nothing more than animals in rut. Hell, even animals got sappy holos about them having feelings! He was furious. She opened her mouth to yell at him and he cut her off. “This conversation is over.” And he deafened exterior sound.

He watched her mouth move soundlessly in front of him, anxiety certainly pooling in his gut for what he’d said, but he’d rather have latrine duty or brig time than debate his brothers’ sentience with her. 

He messaged across the building at Turing and they fired up a game of Pogs. Focusing on the game settled him a bit, but he certainly wasn’t winning any tournaments.  
She gave up once she realised he wasn’t listening and didn’t plan to start, and, through the transparent background of the game over his HUD, he watched her storm over to her desk and type furiously on her computer. He undeafened now that she was quiet, not wanting to let his guard down. He still had to keep her alive regardless of how much of a chakaar she was.

A few minutes later, out of nowhere, she karking screamed.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?!”

She pointed in horror at her computer screen and Lyað rounded her desk to see— it’d been hacked, and in big, bold, red letters, the display read “DO NOT POST THAT.”

She rounded on him. “Did you do this?!?”

What? “What? Ma’am, how would I hack you? I’m a seccer, not a soft-shell?!” 

As little sense as that sentence had probably made to her, he must’ve seemed genuine enough because she stopped accusing him and started frantically pressing keys trying to make the pop-up go away. 

“Ma’am. Ma’am. Don’t do that,” he urged. “You should unplug it. I’ll have a techie come down right away.” She looked at him in terrified fury, and even as much as he hated her, he tried to be reassuring. “We’ll investigate right away, ma’am. Don’t worry.” He assessed the room even though he’d done so the moment he’d first walked in and made absolutely sure there was no easy entry. It was a small windowless office with only one door, a safe spot compared to the skyline views upstairs. “You need to stay here until things settle,” he said, hoping he sounded confident, “Whoever this is may be able to hack your devices, but they can’t get at you in here. They’d be fighting the whole Guard.” He fired up his comlink and set the scramble to the stationary comm in the server room where clone technicians were segregated to. “Techies, copy?”

A brother’s voice crackled through. “‘Firm. What’s your disease?”

Anndansari, by his mannerisms. “Got a hackjob on a senator’s gear. Need you to come up and look at it.”

“Aye-aye, seccer. With ya in two shakes.”

She was looking at his wrist comm with that wretched curiosity of hers, but at least she’d successfully distracted herself from the threat still blazoned on her monitor. “... Why’s he... talk like that?”

Lyað shrugged. “That’s just his way.” There was speculation, but it was all scuttlebutt. Some who’d never been to the tech room assumed the birthers in there talked like that— they didn’t, and besides, they didn’t share the actual sitting part of the tech room with clones on pain of death. The clones had their own little nook built amongst the server racks.

The senator looked to be doing her own bit of speculating when the door buzzed. Lyað popped the door an inch and, upon seeing Anndansari’s characteristic grin on the other side, opened the door to admit him.

“Thankya kindly,” he said, giving Lyað a pearly white smile. He must use a triple-ration of tooth powder to keep his teeth so perfect. “Alright, milady, let’s see what ails ya.” But, of course, the ‘milady’ he was speaking to was, in fact, the computer and not the senator. She was so bewildered by him having any personality at all that she failed to notice.

Lyað watched his brother’s skilled fingers unplug the terminal from the internet, and with a few taps of the keyboard, he’d freed her up. He then attempted to trace the source of the hack and, rather than comming Captain Mandokad with some apartment to go raid, he laughed out loud.

“Damn jetii,” he crowed, his face all lit up. “You’re in no danger, ma’am. She’s not the violent sort. ‘Less you’re Kyr’tsad.” He set the pages back how she’d had them and reconnected the internet. “I’ll beg for mercy on your behalf, senator, don’t’chu fret.”

Lyað hadn’t got to encounter their jetii in person yet, but he’d heard the gender-switching padawan was about as perfect as nat-borns came. “This was her?” He reckoned she must be a she today, or, at least, she had been last Anndansari heard. “What for?”

“I dunno. She’s angy real easy though. Not much for diplomacy.” Anndansari turned to the senator with an easy smile, the first time he’d even looked up at her face. “Jetii’s got an electricity thing,” he explained in as simple of terms as it really got, “and when she’s near to computers she can see what’s their innards and mess with ‘em. Don’t worry though. She’s not usually one for the Senate.” He then turned on his heel smartly and gave Lyað a smile that made his heart skip a beat. 

He was sure he was sith-red. Thank the ka’ra for helmets.

There was a long stretch of quiet where the senator messed with her computer, probably trying to make sure she hadn’t lost any files in the hack or something.

A message cued up on Lyað’s HUD. 

**SARI: come to server room**

Lyað’s heart raced. He must’ve made a sound of some sort because the senator glanced up. She cocked her head, considering him.

  
Her face lightened with mirth and cruel mischief. “You just got _selected_ , didn’t you...?” Her lips twisted into an evil grin. “Your brother just picked you for _bottom duty_.”

Her delight in this disgusted him. 

And there was no way to know who’d be on top, even if he was going to leave his post for the server room, which he wasn’t. Except for Anndansari’s obvious experience in the matter, him being gorgeous and charismatic and all, and also for the number of times Lyað’d cum on his own fingers out of desperation to have something inside him. No way to know. 

**SARI: k’olar vod, we’ve got opposite shifts, can’t get at it at home**

**SARI: give you suckjob.................**

Lyað wriggled in his armour. The senator was watching him very closely but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

**LYAÐ: if i’m gonna leave post i’m gonna get a rod in me**

**SARI: fair........... but you gotta comere.....**

**LYAÐ: i can’t**

His comm buzzed. “Y’mind popping on down to the servers? Only take a minute.”

Her eyes glittered as he swallowed and stuttered, “I-if you’ll excuse me, ma’am.” And he high-tailed it downstairs.

“Oh! Oh, kark, kark-me-kark-me-kark-me—“

“Udesii, Ly’ka, I haven’t even got ner kad in you yet.”

His fingers were just as talented against his spot as they were on a keyboard. Lyað’s breastplate ground into the wall to get away even as his hips thrust back to get more.

His skidplate and codpiece had landed... somewhere, and as much as he would’ve loved to be shucked naked and rocked on the server room floor by Anndansari, Lyað just couldn’t wait that long. 

Anndansari bit at the nape of his neck and stabbed his fingers in again, three this time.

“OH!”

“K’uur. You’ll bring in the di’kute.”

“Oh, I’m— ffffffrrip, you gotta put it in. I’m gonna k-k— karking— put it in already!!”

Lyað hadn’t even split the seal over his cock yet and he was already about to cream the inside of his blacks. The musk of freshly cleaned soft-shell and the overpowering scent of motor lube— Anndansari’s perfect fingers— he wasn’t going to survive this.

“Gotta take another finger for that, Ly’ka,” Sari crooned, karking them in deeper but missing his spot on purpose. Lyað whined. “Ain’t you never got a kad in gar palon before, vod? We’re big.” He nibbled and licked at the shell of Lyað’s left ear, taking him apart with speed and efficiency unmatched. His other hand, so skilled in this art, split the seal past his perineum to let his gett’se hang free.

“—kark,” Lyað choked as Sari gave them a firm tug. “H-hurry. Gedet’ye, Sar’ika.”

“Sar— no, no no no, vod. I’ve got two months on you. You call me Annd’alor.”

“I’m not—“ His hand found the base of Lyað’s cock and squeezed, hard.

Sari purred in his ear, “What was that, Ly’ka?”

“I’m—“ Lyað moaned as Anndansari’s little finger pressed in, stretching him so unbelievably wide. He felt like he could fit a torpedo. “I—“ He couldn’t even summon words.

Sari seemed quite pleased with himself. “You’re not gettin’ my rod till you call me somethin’ sweet, vod’ika.”

“P-plea— gedet’ye, Ori’annd—“

Anndansari’s thumb caught on his rim and he all but screamed. “Hm,” he pondered, not sounding even a little bothered by current events, “I don’t know. I mean, it’s close...”

“I’m—“ Lyað tried and failed to kick at his brother. “Ori’vod! Put your rod in me!”

That dragged a shuddery sound out of Sari. He pulled his fingers free and Lyað groaned at the loss, at the emptiness. Wet sounds of lube being beat along a brother’s length assaulted Lyað’s ears. He could die. His heart could beat right out of his chest. 

Something spongy and wet touched his hole, hot like the barrel of a Z-6 and feeling just about as big. He started whimpering pitifully as Anndansari gave it to him, millimetre by millimetre, karking into him with tiny rocks of his hips. Ruining him. Just ruining him. The stretch burned and ached and his cock throbbed inside his blacks, pulsing faster and faster and faster with his heartbeat. 

“You’re taking it so well,” Sari said in his ear. “Nammi cried when I got an inch in.”

Somewhere behind the lust-addled smog in his brain there was a witty retort about how Nammi was a soft-shell and seccers were built stronger, but the words got lost on the way to his tongue. Anndansari kissed his neck above his blacks, the soft place behind his ear. “Quarter-way there now. You’re so good. So tight and sweet and warm around my cock, Ly’ka.” He hissed as he gained another millimetre. “Kark,” he swore, taking another, “‘f you weren’t a virgin I’d’a just bent you over the senator’s desk and karked you stupid.”

It was a tease, a dirty fantasy. Lyað still shook his head furiously, lightheaded from all his blood having drained southwards. “Y-you woun’n’t,” he muscled out, forehead hitting the wall as he felt Sari slide in at least a centimetre. 

“Oh,” Sari reassured him, “oh, I would. And I have.” He split the top of Lyað’s collar and started putting a hickey on the first knob of his spine. Lyað moaned and his hips jittered backwards. “Did I never tell you what I did to Fax?”

“OH—!!”

“Yeah, that’s it. Halfway there.” Anndansari finally hooked a finger in the slit of Lyað’s undersuit and pulled it aside, letting his cock bounce out, heavy with blood and drooling onto the floor. Lyað moaned at cool air on heated skin. “Ly’ka. Mesh’la Ly’ka... I brought Fax with me to an install job. Whole building dark and quiet. And I stripped him of everything but his boots... made him do the install, with his pretty shebs facing the cameras.” Sari took two more centimetres, and then a third. Lyað could feel himself boiling over, cock in his hole and sultry voice in his ear. “...Vi was on the cameras. Watching us. Keepin’ a peeper out for Blues.” Anndansari started to rock an even, gentle pace that made Lyað’s head spin. “And I put pretty little Fax over the senator’s desk and I ruined him. Put bruises on his hips, loved him all over. Wasn’t an inch of him I didn’t map. I karked him, Ly’ka. Hard and fast, until he was screaming anything I fed him. Made him cum by beating his pretty cock against the desk. Filled him up until he was dripping with it. And, well, I would’ve made him clean it up too, but... well, I hadta carry him outta the room. You know how it is.”   
He was starting to get the idea, yeah. His thighs were quaking under him, his knees barely holding him up even with the armour’s help. He couldn’t imagine how wrecked he’d be to cum like this.

Oh, but he wanted to find out.

“Mmhhhh—“

“K’uur, k’uur, Ly’ka...” Anndansari rocked into him, deeper and deeper. “You don’t need an audience your first time, do ya? No, no no no... you’re mine. And imma make you remember it.” He bit Lyað’s neck and gave it to him harder, evoking a shout. “I’m gonna make you say it. Scream it for me.” Sari bit out a moan. “— kark, kark, these shebs—“ He clapped his hands on either side of Lyað’s ass and squeezed, panting at the tight slide. “Ka’ra—“ he choked. “Kark the Kaminii for everything but these shebs, karking hells—“

“An— Annd—“

Anndansari gasped in his ear. “I know. I know. It’s comin’, little brother. I’ll make ya cum. I’ll make ya happy.”

“Annda-a-a-a—“ Lyað stuttered on each thrust, breastplate slamming into the wall, knees creaking. “G-gedet’ye—“ he panted and whined. “Gedet’ye—!”

His hand caught Lyað around the head of his swollen cock and started jerking him in time with his thrusts, which were getting faster and faster with each breath they shared. Lyað moaned out his brother’s name, karking back onto his dick, both desperate for release and wishing this would never end. It was all too much, and not enough—

“ANNDAN—!!”

He clenched hard, coated Anndansari’s fist, and felt his ori’vod seize up against his back in reply. 

Lyað slumped against the wall, heartbeat thundering in his ears, whole body humming and shaking and sweating. Every sensation was amplified by a thousand; Anndansari kissing the back of his neck, his dick thrusting once, twice more before sliding out wetly, settling against Lyað’s cleft as warmth began to seep free of his hole. 

“Mesh’la...” Sari was muttering. “Mesh’la, vod’ika. Jat’ad. Jate, vod’ika.” His voice was hoarse and thick and unfairly sexy. Lyað’s cock twitched pitifully at his praises. “K’olar,” he whispered, “let’s put you back to meat droid.” He kissed Lyað again, and again and again, and when Lyað finally regained enough fine motor controls to face him, Anndansari pressed their lips together, gently. “Cyar’ika. My little vod. Ner mesh’la vod’ika.” Lyað tried to kiss back, but was barely conscious enough to stay upright. Anndansari didn’t seem to mind much, licking into his mouth with softest passion. “... k’olar,” he mumbled again, against Lyað’s lips. He seemed to be convincing himself more than Lyað. “... duty. R’public, n’such. Gotta...” he kissed deeply, Lyað meeting him with no less desire but far less energy. “... gotta go, Ly’ka. Back to work.”

“Mhm,” Lyað agreed, a hand going to his loose, sloppy hole, fingering the mess there. One of Sari’s joined him, and two fingers slipped in deep, curling against that special place. 

Lyað made a noise of complaint, which Anndansari stole away into his own mouth. 

It was too much. His spot ached and burned at Sari’s touch. He pushed his brother away, instantly regretting the loss, and fumbled for his codpiece.

When he turned back, somewhat put together, Anndansari had cleaned off with a go-wipe and tucked himself back into his somehow-pristine uniform. He smiled at Lyað with those pearls and sent him off with a mock salute tapped against his brow.

Nine kriffing hells. 


End file.
